


Chances

by dirtylittlegreasemonkey9384



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Angst, Conbert, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Swearing, been warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 05:42:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4734689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtylittlegreasemonkey9384/pseuds/dirtylittlegreasemonkey9384
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Don't freak, just an idea that hit me. Robron is still top, this is just an experiment with a one shot, head canon thing of Connor and Rob's relationship. Don't hate me. Enjoy? x</p>
    </blockquote>





	Chances

**Author's Note:**

> Don't freak, just an idea that hit me. Robron is still top, this is just an experiment with a one shot, head canon thing of Connor and Rob's relationship. Don't hate me. Enjoy? x

He was twenty four when it happened. It was late, it had been a while since he'd been with someone and the guy was there.

Confident, cocky, fit. The fact Robert had noticed didn't mean anything, anyone would have noticed, the guy was leaning against the bar just a few feet away and hadn't pulled his eyes off of Robert the entire night.

Kinda hard to miss.

It wasn't the first time Rob had had eyes on him in his life, and it wasn't the first time those eyes had been a man's. It was however the first time he'd glanced back and felt a pull to do something without alcohol in his system to blame it all on later.

Rob wasn't a virgin, he'd gone to bed with many women, both inside the village and outside of it, and yes, there had been a couple of guys that he'd slept with. Two in fact.

The first had been less gone-to-bed, and more rushed-to-the-back-of-a-car, quick and not particularly skilled from either of them. Rob was nineteen at the time, and that was the first time that he'd given into the lust growing in his stomach when a guy glanced at him.

If a woman gave him the eye, he typically went for it. He'd walk over with a cocky swagger, buy a drink, laugh at bad anecdotes and then silkily suggest they get out of there. Rob was king of that.

Picking up guys? Different ballgame, and Rob wasn't anything close to smooth when the gender was flipped.

Not that it had mattered that first time.

They'd both been inexperienced, and the guy seemed pretty happy at the end of it, even though Rob had stalked off without a backwards glance, ignoring the slightly slurred calls of his name.

He'd got back to his flat, knocked back two shots of whiskey and collapsed into bed, taking his panic and confusion by the balls and throwing into a filing cabinet at the back of his head. 'To be dealt with later.'

The second occasion, not that Rob was proud of it, occurred in the club bathroom, with pulsating music rocking through his head, making him feel a lot drunker than he actually was and making it a lot easier for him to pretend that the dizzying feeling was nothing to do with the skilled hands and mouth of the lad on his knees in front of him.

He'd tried to file that in the same mental filing cabinet as the first time, but it was getting quite cramped in there, what with all the times his heart had quickened at the sight of a lad with a bright smile and well toned torso. He only just managed to squeeze that second interaction in.

Despite it being filed away, Rob couldn't stop himself wondering the next evening, as he paced around his flat dressed in just his boxers with his toothbrush in his mouth, how he'd allowed it to happen again.

Once okay, things happen right? But twice?

He had to be careful, lest this start to become a 'thing', something that actually existed, that he couldn't just blame on alcohol, that he couldn't ignore and deny for long enough that his memories became distorted and he couldn't remember how good it had felt.

He didn't have such control over his dreams of course, where the bliss of each experience was magnified by twenty and almost made him want more, but they were just dreams. Dreams are always fucking weird right?

The guy approached him in the end, after Rob had drifted off, his eyes glazing over but pointed enough in the lad's direction to look in the dark like staring, like a signal, like a come on.

His name was Connor, and he wanted to know if Rob fancied a drink. Rob almost scoffed, acted like he didn't care about the guy's name, but it fit him quite well and a drink sounded good. Nothing wrong with a free drink right?

He'd gone for a beer, and knocked half the bottle back the second it arrived, sat awkwardly on the bar stool next to where Connor stood, tapping his fingers against the glass.

"D'you speak, at all?" Connor had asked after about twenty seconds of silence.

Great, the guy was sarcastic too. Why the hell did Rob find that such a turn on?

Words had been exchanged, although Connor had practically had to drag them out of Rob, but somehow they ended up back at Connor's flat, with only one beer inside Rob's stomach, his head far too clear for him to be doing this, but not being able to pull his hand out of Connor's clammy grip.

That was the first night he'd gone to bed with a guy. He'd stayed the night, flushed and breathless, but also exhausted and far too comfy under Connor's thick duvet.

The next morning he woke up stupidly early and the first thing he felt was the weight of Conner's legs over his, the lad's back very close to Rob's chest and Rob's arm almost draped over him.

Back the fuck up.

Rob pulled back and slipped away, pulling on his boxers and jeans before checking the time on his phone, all the time glancing up to check Connor was still fast asleep. He was a mumbler, which made things worse, Rob's heart picking up every time he had a noise, only to discover Connor's breathing still steady, his eyes still closed.

No note, no number, nothing. Rob wasn't interested in politeness, he just shoved on his shirt, grabbed his jacket and keys and fled, like he'd been kidnapped and held hostage in the apartment, rather than the truth.

He'd gone there voluntarily, he'd wanted to stay the night. He'd enjoyed the heat of Connor's body on a cold night and the sex had been the best he'd had.

No way that was fitting in the filing cabinet, no way in hell.

As Rob stumbled out into the cold air, a street that was unfamiliar in the harsh light of the day, he started to panic. He ran up the road and around a couple of corners, until he was far enough from the flat that he felt safe. He stopped against a wall in an alleyway, breathing heavily and not quite sure what to do.

It was after a couple of seconds of staring at the ground that Rob pulled his head up, drawing in a deep breath. He couldn't allow himself to get so out of control, this wasn't worth that, nothing was. It was just sex after all, a way of getting off without his own hand. It meant nothing.

That was the rhetoric he went with, that's what he told himself every time he felt an attraction towards a guy. He'd been in a couple of relationships with girls you see, he'd felt for them, maybe not love but a hell of a lot more than the lust that controlled his actions towards guys.

So if he happened to have a few men mixed into his sexual history, one night stands who never got to know anything more about him than his name and the feel of his hand against their crotch, so what?

As far as Rob saw it, a couple of stupid nights didn't have jot to do with his sexuality. He was straight, he just used a guy every now and then when he felt lust boiling in his stomach. Doesn't matter.

A couple of months later he was in another bar, glancing around for a good time, when his eyes locked onto a familiar pair.

Connor.

Rob turned as a sigh escaped him, he was in Leeds for heaven's sake. What were the chances?

He heard his name being called over the music, in the accent that brought with it memories of that night, from the words muttered in his ear as he damn near blacked out in overwhelmed pleasure to the sound of curse words when Connor had got up in the night and stepped on a plug.

It had featured in a few dreams as well, very briefly. They'd stopped after a couple of weeks, although in Rob's honest opinion that was a couple of weeks too late, not that he let himself dwell too much on it.

He turned around, signature smirk on his face. Rob had learnt a lot of new tricks since his last encounter with the boy, discovering that it was quite easy to get what you wanted if you had enough charm and looked good enough.

A smile and a harmless flirt can you get you a job interview. If you're good enough it can land you the job, even if you don't deserve it. Bosses are all human, they all have a weak spot. You'd be surprised for how many that weakness was their own ego, or libido in some cases.

That's how Rob had got his current job. He was hardly director, but it was a starting place, a foot on the rung.

Flirting with the boss was fine. Rob was using him, he used every guy he'd ever bedded, that was the conclusion he'd come to. Was it harsh? Maybe, but it was also separate to his love life, his actual love life.

He'd recently been on pretty decent terms with the boss' daughter, gorgeous, intelligent, ambitious. They'd be a good match, when Rob decided to win her over. Because he would, easily. It was what he was good at.

"Hey, Callum wasn't it?" It wasn't, and Rob knew it, but like hell was he going to give away that he had remembered anything from their encounter. It meant nothing, just free sex.

"Almost, Connor. You fancy a drink?"

He opened his mouth to decline but his head nodded, and soon there was a beer in front of him and Connor talking about how he'd spent the last few months, like they were friends or something. Like Rob cared at all.

Connor eyed Rob up all through the story, trying to goad him, get at him, draw something out. They'd moved to the table outside the pub for their conversation, Rob claiming that he couldn't hear Connor inside.

It was more that the stranger's eyes made him feel uncomfortable. Usually he wouldn't have spent even ten minutes inside a bar with a guy, it was more spot him, meet him and if he was up for it, fuck him. Sitting next to Connor, music in the background, it all felt too much like a date, he didn't want people thinking that. Even if he didn't know them.

"Still, it was a shame you didn't stick around last time, pancakes are a speciality of mine." That got Rob's attention in time for Connor to be able to lean forward, a smirk on his face that rivalled Rob's. "Well, it's one of my specialities, as you know." He muttered dirtily.

His voice was way lower than it needed to be, they were on their own outside, nobody around to hear them, but it had the desired effect. For the first time that night, that month in fact, Rob blushed.  
He fucking blushed.

Rob didn't blush, he didn't care enough to blush. His male conquests were attractive enough to catch his eye, and later make him catch his breath, but they never had this effect on him outside of the bedroom. Even the way Connor was looking at him felt like too much to handle.

Maybe that's why he grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him with what can only be described as desperation.

It was the worst hotel Rob had ever seen, but that was the last thing on his mind. By the look on the receptionist's face as Rob slammed the money on the desk and practically snatched the key out of her hand, Connor hanging over him, it wasn't the first time the place had been used for a Saturday night bunk up.

It was when Connor pushed him against the wall, when Connor took charge, that Rob pushed him away.

"No, no, this isn't gonna happen." He insisted, gesturing vaguely between them both.

Connor sat on the edge of the bed, scoffing.

"You're the one who stuck your tongue down my mouth, was perfectly happy having an innocent chat."

"Sure." In spite of himself Rob smiled, rolling his eyes, still leaning against the door. It took everything in his not to bring his fingertips up to his bruised lips.

"So go on, why's this not happening? Cause you seemed pretty keen a few seconds ago."

"I don't do the repeat performance thing. It's a one chance thing with me, I'm not for second or third night stands." Rob said, almost robotically. A mantra he clung to to stop himself from diving in again, from drowning.

Connor tipped his head to the side before shaking it lightly.

"Nah, that's not all this is."

"Look it isn't happening alright? One chance, you had it, it's done. It's over. It was just sex."

"I'm not proposing to you Rob, you're the one making a big deal out of this."

"I'm not, I don't care. And don't call me Rob."

Connor stood up then, taking a few steps forwards until he was right in front of Rob, arms resting on the wall either side of him.

"What should I call you then? Any preference?"

It was that damn voice again, that low, rough whisper that pulled the breath right out of Rob's chest and caused his hips to twitch.

In answer Rob gripped Connor's shoulders, moving both of them forward until he was pressing Conner into the mattress, tongue against his, holding his hands above his head.

"Impressive." Connor muttered when his breath had returned, the sheets ruffled underneath him, Rob lying on his back and staring at the stained ceiling.

"Don't talk to me." Rob replied, running his hands through his messy hair and down his face.

"You've changed your tune, didn't mind me talking when we wer-"

"Don't talk, simple instruction, what part is tripping you up?" Rob snapped, turning his head to the lad on his left, opening his eyes to glare.

"Fine. Enjoy your shit-hole hotel, I've been staying at a friend's house, time I got back."

As Connor suddenly stood up, pulling his boxers up over his bare skin, Rob sat up straight, words slipping out before he'd thought them though.

"Wait what? You're leaving?"

He didn't want Connor to go. Through the confusion in his head that was clear, he knew that much. Rob didn't want Connor for a friend, certainly not for anything more, but he wanted him for that night, for the few hours that the sky was dark and the air unforgiving and lonely. He wanted Connor under the same duvet, the feel of his stomach rising and falling with each breath under Rob's fingertips. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted it.

"Even with the tempting offer of a night on a thin mattress, banned from speech, I'm gonna say yeah, I'm leaving."

As he pulled his shirt over his head Connor sneered, pulling a betting shop biro out of his pocket and scribbling onto the hotel wall.

"If you forget how to count again, and decide you want to give me an exclusive Robert experience, one per person ticket, again, there's my number." He said mockingly, chucking the pen at Rob's chest and walking out the door.

Rob paced for a while when Connor had gone, swearing at the cockiness of the man, and the actions of himself. What was up with his damn head? He was way too lonely, that was it.

Checking the time he saw it was only just gone nine thirty. Grabbing his phone and deciding to leave all logic at the door he scrolled through his contacts and sent a message.

_'Hey, going out tomorrow to a restaurant, I've heard it's good. I'll book a table for two at eight if you're interested?'_

Gathering up his clothes and his thoughts he stiffened when he heard his phone buzz.

_'Wondered when you'd finally ask. I accept, I'll warn you though, my dad'll have you fired if you dare stand me up.'_

Fully dressed he decided there was no way he could stay the night in such an awful room, not with the memories he was trying to push down.

_'Wouldn't dream of it Chrissie, what do you take me for? Tomorrow at eight it is.'_

He tried to walk straight out the door, he got halfway out before pulling out his phone again and adding the digits on the grimy hotel wall to his contact list. After scribbling over the number with Connor's abandoned pen he left, slamming the door.

That date became a second, third, forth and Rob soon stopped pausing whenever he caught Connor's name on his contact list. Months passed and Rob stayed faithful, for the most part.

There had been one occasion when he'd called the number on his phone, when he'd been thrown out by Chrissie after a fight at one of her stupid pretentious parties. After an initial sarcastic response, Connor had told Rob he wasn't in the area, he was a good while away.

Rob didn't care, he had a car, he could drive.

It was at Connor's flat that they met, he'd moved since the last time, the rooms all quite bare, but it didn't early matter. There was a bed, they were sorted.

Rob woke up to a text from Chrissie, apologising. Guilt and fear washed over him as he realised where he was, and all that he'd possibly put at stake. They were supposed to be moving together in a matter of weeks. If Chrissie found out about where he had spent the night...

"I'm not going to tell her." Connor said, sounding almost bored as he read the text over Rob's shoulder and noted Rob's horrified expression.

"Hell right you won't." Rob answered.

"So, there's a little trouble in paradise then? I mean, you were fucking me instead of your girlfriend last night, a lad can assume there's something up."

Rob and Chrissie weren't paradise. They were okay, fantastic on paper, but there was a certain level of pretence Rob had to keep up, all the time. He could live with it, live with her, Chrissie's personality, the money, and security made it a lot easier, but still, they weren't paradise.

He didn't feel free with Connor either, it was still all a stupid pretence, but at least Connor didn't give a fuck, he didn't ask questions. It was always simple between them. Sex.

Of course, there was no chance of Rob telling Connor this.

"We're fine thanks, on track, just keep your mouth shut."

"Funny, you don't usually like my mouth being shut when you turn up, you prefer it to be otherwise occupied."

"Hilarious. I'm leaving."

Rob returned to Chrissie and apologised for the fight, feeling quite worried that she'd smell something funny on him when she pulled him in for an embrace. Although he was lucky there was no lingering perfume to worry about.

There had been a touch of panic in him when her family wanted to move to Emmerdale, but he soon swallowed that, not feeling in the position to argue, and went with them, looking at the positives of returning to his childhood town... where his father, mother and surrogate mother had died and his brother had threatened to shoot him.

Who wouldn't want to return?

A few weeks in Emmerdale and Rob had put the thing with Connor behind him, dedicating himself to staying faithful to Chrissie. When his life was going well he found it pretty easy to avoid temptation, of any kind.

His career was flourishing, even if his boss hated him, he couldn't deny that Rob brought in a lot of clients, and by proxy, a hell of a lot of money.

Plus Chrissie had pretty much insisted that if her father wanted her in his life, he'd have to accept Rob too. That had pretty much clinched it.

There was also the house. No returning to a poky little flat for Rob now, no. It was a mansion, there was no other word to describe it, and from the second stepped foot inside, he knew he'd be an idiot to willingly give it up. Especially for some random person in a club or milling around the sleepy village.

There was no-one that tempting around anyway.

Until Aaron turned up.

Rob wanted him, it was all he could say. Along with lust, as he got to know the mechanic a little better he felt something in him reach out, some connection being made. Their first night, in the back of a car, was far better than the last time Rob had fucked on leather upholstery. Better than any time Rob had fucked at all in fact.

Then it had spiralled drastically out of control and soon he was stuck in the aftermath, his marriage in shreds, his career almost over and his heart still desperately in love with the mechanic, who had once thought the world of him and now hated him more than anything. The one person Rob felt at home with, himself with, and he'd fucked it up.

When the plan entered Rob's head it didn't surprise him, he knew he needed something to gather up something from the life that had just been torn to pieces. Chrissie was out of the village, and was hardly going to go back to him now. Who he really wanted wouldn't even glance at him without a look of disgust, for all the right reasons.

So it was up to him to save his career.

It wasn't an ingenious plan, it was pretty similar to his Home Farm plot, the first time he'd really seen what Aaron was like.

He spent his time away from Home Farm going over every step, until it was cemented in his head and there was no way that it could fall out of his control. There was just one problem.

He needed help, and people weren't exactly knocking down the door to call themselves his friend.

It had been two am on the morning he had to get things in order when the name came to him, an offhand suggestion from the very back of his mind.

As he found the number and dialled he almost laughed at his own naivete. If Connor still had this number after so long it would be a miracle, and even if he did he probably wouldn't even remember who Rob was. If he did, well, Rob wouldn't be doing any favours if it was the other way around.

"Hello?"

It was him, same voice, clouded with sleep, low and deep, almost the same voice that had once nearly drove Rob mad. It didn't do so this time, it just reminded him of Aaron, when he would wake up before him at Home Farm and gently shake him awake.  
"It's Robert."

"Wow, long time no speak. What can I do for you?"

Sarcastic bastard.

"I need you to do something for me. There's cash in it for you."

"I'm not a prostitute Rob."

"That's not what I want from you, I need someone to help me out, a project some may say."

He went through the plan and Connor said alright. Of course it was going to cost, they weren't sure how much, that part would come later.

It worked. Connor played his part well, Lawrence was cleared of assault and a padded envelope containing five grand was handed over.

"This it?" Connor asked after opening the envelope and glancing inside

"It's all there. What more d'you want? Bunch of flowers?" There was sarcasm in Rob's voice, hands positioned on hips, more quips on the tip of his tongue to use if necessary.

"Don't know." Connor paused, glancing up at Rob before continuing. "Bit of gratitude."

"You were late."

"I couldn't find the bar."

"Well I had to mess around in there for ages, if you'd been any later I'd have gone."

"Aw!" Connor said sarcastically before gesturing at his bruises. "Look. Everyone's asking me how I've done it. It's embarrassing."

"What, five grands worth of embarrassing?" Rob shot back.

"Well, would've held out for more if I'd known what an idiot he is."

Rob picked up the envelope Connor had set to the side and stepped forward, pressing the cash into Connor's chest.

"Don't kid yourself. You only get one chance with me."

Connor's eyes roamed, from Rob's eyes to his lips, before he smirked.

"Except you've said that before."

Rob moved forward, just a centimetre or so, and the atmosphere froze for a few seconds before he just pushed the envelope harder into Connor and stepped back.

"We're done. Go on, get lost." Rob muttered, walking over to the other side of the room.

As Connor passed to get to the door he stopped, giving a wink before he waltzed out of the house, out of Rob's life.

There had been a tense moment, where the way Connor was looking at him was almost enough to tempt him. Then he remembered how Aaron used to look when they were having a stare off, determined not to break.

There was always a shyness in Aaron, something humble and sweet that Connor lacked. That's what had done it in the end, what had caused Rob to step away. Connor was selfish, corrupt and ran on greed and lust. Rob would be lying if he said he didn't see a lot of himself in Connor, but that wasn't what Rob wanted in his life.

Connor was a lot of Rob hated in himself, that he'd once thought were his redeeming features. Aaron was everything Rob wished he could be. The good. The right. He was too good for Rob sure, but Rob had experienced lying with him, the way Aaron smiled, laughed, slurred when he'd had one too many. He couldn't go back.

There was only one person for him now, even he hated him, even if the very mention of Rob's name made Aaron want to throw up, Rob couldn't give up, and sleeping with Connor would feel like that. It would feel like a betrayal, as ironic as that may sound.

How he'd felt in bar, when he saw Aaron face over the shoulder of whoever he was embracing, the jealousy that had rushed through him, the way he was combing over Aaron's appearance, simultaneously checking he was okay the best he could and drinking everything in, nothing about Aaron insignificant enough to risk forgetting, that was proof of it.

Aaron didn't get one chance with Rob, or two, or three. Aaron didn't get any chances with Rob, it was the other way around.

Rob would spend however long it took praying for Aaron to give him a chance, to give him the time of day. Just one chance, one more chance. That was all he needed, he wouldn't be stupid enough to wreck it again.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope it was alright! It was different, but I couldn't shift the idea. It was meant to be less than 1 k... oops. Also this is the most explicit fic I've written, and it wasn't even robron, ha I wonder what the meanings are behind that (there are none I promise, robron is still the otp) Leave comments etc if you want!  
> Say hi! dirtylittlegreasemonkey9384.tumblr.com  
> :3 x


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